


The Kennelmaster's Daughter

by Meghan Callahan (cuddlybunny)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 08:12:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10940499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlybunny/pseuds/Meghan%20Callahan
Summary: “Head up, keep your mouth shut.  Don’t speak unless spoken to; even then, let me talk first.  Eyes forward.  And don’t let them see you sweat, girl.”These are the last words Gemma's father says to her before he is brutally executed by the Emperor of Niflheim, leaving the Royal Kennelmaster of Tenebrae's daughter without protection until she is spirited away by the High Commander to Altissia...and we all know nothing good ever happens in Altissia





	1. Chapter 1

“Head up, keep your mouth shut.  Don’t speak unless spoken to; even then, let me talk first.  Eyes forward.  And don’t let them see you sweat, girl.”

Her father’s directions seemed almost impossible as they stepped into the throne room.

“Stop fidgeting,” He hissed.  Servaas Tenebris was not a particularly tall man, but he did cut an intimidating figure.  But a few inches taller than his daughter, he kept his dark brown hair pulled out of his face in a sleek, smooth ponytail that he often had her do for him; as it was now, the ends brushed the belt loops of his uniform.  His face was sharp, with pronounced cheekbones and a hawk nose, giving him the look of a predator, not helped by the arrogant coldness to his hazel eyes.  There were but a few wrinkles etched into light mahogany skin.  Along with his broad shoulders, barrel chest and slim waist, he seemed a much younger man than his nearly fifty years of age, the only sign being the small amount of white in his well-trimmed brown beard.

His hand grasped Gemma’s arm, firmly, and he pulled her to stand beside him.  Why they had called them both, she would never know.

Where her father was hard edges, only accented by the black uniform he wore, Gemma would be the first to admit she was soft.  She was small, only clearing 5’2” tall, her hair a considerably lighter shade of brown to her father’s near-black, still kept long, the bulk of it kept out of her eyes with a rose pink hairband and ribbon.  Her skin was tawny, an influence from her Lucean mother, as was the soft pink mouth that she did her best to keep from quivering at the grip on her arm.  Her eyes were darker brown, slightly wider and framed with black lashes often compared to paintbrushes for their thickness.  And where her father had hardened his body to muscles and strength, Gemma’s body was soft and round, hidden not-so-skillfully in her long white skirt and pale pink shirt, the tail of which hung low on one hip, the color matching her ribbon.  The only hardness that seemed to be to her was the thick chain of rings around her neck, interlocking with one end through the other.  A collar of sorts, over scarred and bruised skin of her neck.

Servaas bowed to the Emperor of Niflheim, now seated in the deposed King of Tenebrae’s throne.  Gemma gave a shaky curtsy, trying to keep her eyes forward, though her heart beat thrice as hard in her chest.  She wanted desperately to look to the man’s right hand, to see the prince and gain some kind of comfort in a familiar face, but she didn’t want to risk the punishment she knew would happen if she did.  Her hands instinctively began to toy with the ruffled edge of her shirt, but a sharp look from her father stopped her, making her fold her hands behind her.

It was not the Emperor, but the Chancellor who spoke first.

“I have heard it said around the palace that you, Kennelmaster Tenebris, can train anything to do your bidding,” The redhead sounded amused, despite the fact that he stood beside a usurper in front of a loyal soldier, a soldier who would have previously done anything to defend this throne.  This land.  “Anything and anyone, within a matter of moments.”

Gemma did not miss, from her peripheral vision, the way Ardyn Izunia’s eyes flickered to her.  Perhaps she was imagining, but for a moment, she thought she saw pity within the dark depths.  She swallowed against the lump in her throat.

_ Don’t let them see you sweat. _

“Anything can be trained, with enough work,” Her father said, and he did glance at her from the corner of his eye, and she did her best not to shake.  If she let them linger too long on her, she would surely have to be disciplined again.

She could feel Ravus’ eyes on her, and she clenched her hands tighter behind her.  She chanced a glance, their eyes meeting, and she instantly regretted it.  All of the old feelings came back as she dropped her eyes back to the floor.  The men were talking again.

“Perhaps, then, you could demonstrate,” Ardyn was saying, “If you can train one of these daemons - your choice, of course, which - within a few moments to listen to you and not kill you, I will make sure his Imperial Majesty keeps you and your daughter on in the palace.  If not, well...you’ll be dead, so it won’t matter.  And we see if Miss Tenebris can do better; I understand she has a much different training style than you do.” He gestured to three; a hobgoblin, a red giant, and what looked like a daemonic horse of some kind.

Her father’s nostrils flared.  “As you wish,” He said through gritted teeth, looking towards the daemons, “I doubt,” He continued, “She would do very well without me.  She’s soft, lets them walk over her.”

_ I do not, they’re just not scared of me _ , Gemma bit back, her eyes turning to the daemons as her father released her and stepped forward.  “Father,” She offered softly, “Be careful?” It felt almost unnatural to talk, and she instantly regretted it as Servaas glared over his shoulder at her.

“I’m always careful,” He told her indignantly.  He looked over the three, finally pointing to the largest, bulkiest of them, the skin red and angry looking, “The Red Giant,” He finally said.  “Bigger they are, easier to break.  Isn’t that right?” He asked, looking into its eyes.

She felt a hand at her elbow.  “I would stand back, my dear,” Ardyn murmured in her ear, sounding more amused by the moment.  Her white ballet flats scuffed the floor as she took two steps back, “A little bit further.  There we are.”

Servaas looked up toward the perplexed giant, his hand reaching for the rod that hung on his hip, “Here.  Come here,” He ordered.  The giant did not budge, merely tilting its head at the small, soft thing ordering it around.  Servaas remained calm, “I said come  _ here _ ,” He stated, striking the thing and stepping back.  The daemon huffed angrily, taking a few lumbering steps forward.  “Good,” Servaas praised, “Again.  Come here.” He stepped back, the thing coming toward him.  “Good.  Good.  Now-”

It happened too fast to process at first.  The giant roared, hand shooting out toward the human apparently attacking it.  Servaas jumped out of the way, struck it on the palm, then dodged aside again as the hobgoblin surged forward.  He struck that away, too, jumping back from another attempted grab by the giant.  She had seen this method often; a way of training feral dogs, usually, and sometimes he would do it if someone attacked him.  She had seen the second but once before, and she didn’t like to think about it.

It was the third daemon that tripped him up, getting in behind him and throwing him to the ground.  The giant grabbed his waist, despite him hitting it over and over again with the rod.  Maybe because of it.  It began to squeeze, and her eyes grew wide.

“No,” She whimpered, starting forward.  Ardyn kept his hand at her elbow, holding her still with a force she was surprised by, “Chancellor, please,” She looked up at him with wide eyes, “Please, they’ll kill him.  I’ll do whatever you ask, just stop them.”

“Stop them?” He chuckled, looking down at her, “I can’t stop them.  They’re untrained, you see.  Besides.  Your father did make an agreement.  None of us can stop the natural course of his decisions, can we?”

Gemma tried to pull away, the hand on her elbow slipping off at the last second as she rushed forward.  The giant had her father held tight, hesitating as he saw what looked to be new food rushing in to join the first snack.

Her eyes were blurry with tears as the giant brought Servaas down onto the stone floor with a hard, crashing, still-wet smack that echoed.  “No, stop,” She begged impotently, her feet stopping her but a few inches away.  She turned toward the Emperor, who watched with a fiendish sort of glee, “Please, stop this!  This-this is...please!”

The man raised an eyebrow.  “We had an agreement,” He purred to her.  She whipped around to look at Ardyn.  He held up his hands as if helpless.

Her teary gaze turned to Ravus, the second smack spattering blood all down her front.  It echoed again, again, again, as the giant seemed to be tenderizing the meat it intended for itself and its siblings, “Please,” She sobbed, her legs growing weak.  “Please, Ravus, I-I know you don’t like him, but…”

This was her fault.  This was all her fault.  She had let him talk too loud, let him talk to the wrong people.  Had praised him to the wrong politicians.  She had to make this right.

“Please, my lord,” Her legs went out from under her as she sank to her knees before them, “Please, please, please stop...stop this.  This isn’t training, this isn’t proper consequences, this is  _ torture _ !”

The wet smacking continued, and she tried to put out of her mind the wet, warm, sticky feeling of her father’s blood upon her.  Ravus watched her with a seemingly neutral expression.  Then, he looked away, as if to dismiss her from his sight.  Or perhaps just in disgust as she heard the tearing of clothes and skin.  She looked toward the daemons as they tore her father into pieces, gobbling him up like so much slop for pigs.  She felt sick and numb at once, the tears freezing in her eyes as she watched him go from a man to food.  Watched him go from her father to a nameless corpse.

“I believe they have eaten well enough for now, Chancellor,” The Emperor finally said, as if the display  _ bored _ him, of all things.  The taking and consuming of life being banal to a man who ran wars as some men ran shops.  “Take them back to their kennels.  Tomorrow, Miss Tenebris, we will try with you.  Look well, for this may be your fate as well.”

Her eyes were frozen on the bloody spot on the floor not three feet ahead of her as the daemons were removed.  Then, the Emperor.  Finally, a pair of hands settled on her bloody arms, helping her weak legs to stand.

“Come, my dear,” Ardyn turned her face up to his, “Let us get you back to your quarters.  You have a great deal to contemplate; methods, last requests.”

“D-” She sniffled, glaring away, “Don’t touch me,” She pulled back, with a venom in her voice she almost didn’t recognize, “I c-can walk by myself.” She hated herself as she mumbled out a “Thank you for the offer, my lord.”

The redhead actually laughed at her, shaking his head, “Are you actually angry at me?” He asked, looking over his shoulder at Ravus.  Gemma didn’t trust herself to follow his gaze, “Miss Tenebris, if you ask me, removing that man from your life was a blessing.  And you should be escorted back to your room.  To make sure you don’t get...lost.” The last word seemed especially pointed, directed, “I feel obligated to do it myself.”

Gemma gulped, looking at the spot the servants were now trying to clean up.  Trying to erase any sign her father had been there.  She wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand, doing her best not to get any more blood on her face.  She nodded weakly, and the man took her hand, settling it on his arm as if they were going to a ball.  As if she had not just seen him execute her father for hubris, take away her last lifeline in a court that could swallow her up and forget her.

Now, and only now, as they began to cross the threshold of the throne room back to the main foyer, did she chance a look back at the former Prince of Tenebrae.  The High Commander now.  He still looked away, his hand clenched into a fist.  He looked almost as if he were shaking.  If it had been two, maybe even one year ago, she would have gone to him to try to calm him.

The double doors of the throne room closed behind her, closed on him as Misha slunk toward him, the dog’s eyes seeming sad and lonely as he shoved his head into his master’s open palm, hoping to offer some comfort.

“Well,” Ardyn stated, “You won’t be needing this anymore, I daresay,” He reached for the chain around her neck.  She jerked back, but could only get a few inches of distance, his arm pinning her hand against his side, “Come now, my dear.  You can’t tell me you  _ enjoy _ wearing that ugly thing.”

A million things crossed her mind to say.  That it was the only thing of her father she had left, of the memories, good and bad.  That he had taken so much from her already.  That she wanted to keep it, that she wanted to wear it as a sign that she might be collared, but no one would be using it against her again.  She opened her mouth, and suddenly felt her throat hurting, crushing.  He had hooked one finger in the longest ring as she pulled back, pulling the chain taut around her throat.

“Don’t struggle, Gemma,” He purred, strangely gentle, his eyes terrifyingly intent on hers, “If you struggle, you will only hurt yourself more.” He spoke as her father often had to the pups when they got their first choke chains and pulled.  Her eyes stung with tears at the familiarity of the tone, and the fact he used her name, her first name, for the first time in forever.  “There’s a good girl,” He added as she went back to him.

Her hand touched his wrist, “Please,” She begged again, “Please, just let me-”

He jerked.  Her air cut off at once and she choked, anything gentle in his eyes having hardened to cold, commanding power as she saw spots on the very edge of her vision.  He kept his hand raised, finger still hooked through that ring, the chain painfully tight as her lungs screamed for air.  She scrabbled at his hand, nails digging pathetically into the skin.  It seemed as if he held her trapped forever.

In a moment, he lowered his hand.  The pressure on her neck loosened and she coughed, wheezing air in, tears in her eyes again, but now from pain as she felt the familiar throbbing on her skin, her windpipe, her hand going to her own throat to make sure she wasn’t bleeding this time.  “Shall we try that again?” He asked her, his voice that suspiciously gentle tone again.  She shook her head.  “You learn quickly.” His finger slid from the ring, under the collar.

He seemed to be letting his skin linger against hers, thumbs brushing her pulse as he worked the chain up over her head, fingertips brushing the tears from her cheeks, “There, now.  Isn’t that much better,” He dropped the chain to the side with a tinkling little thud that only served to remind her of the sound her father had made on the hard stone floor.  He took her face in his hands as a beloved uncle might to a child, “Now, why don’t we get you back to your room and into bed?”

Gemma looked up at him, her cheeks feeling smushed in his grip.  She had no doubt he could just as easily hurt her without the collar.  She looked away and nodded, letting him help her to her feet, and he placed her hand on his arm again.  She heard without listening as he babbled inanities about the court, the treaty with Lucis, the daemons closing in on Tenebrae’s borders, the crystal and the ring, Ravus’ promotion.  When he presented her to the door of her apartments, she just nodded with a quiet, “Thank you, my lord.”

She opened the door, the room suddenly feeling too big for her by herself.  She heard Canto growl from her room, but the dog didn’t approach, and she instantly missed the sight of him.  Normally, he ran toward her, pounced her, red-brown body squirmy and heavy and normal.

“Sweet dreams,” Ardyn chuckled, his teasing voice seeming to cut her as deeply as any blade, “Try not to let them see you sweat.  I hear daemons can sense fear.” He closed the door behind her as soon as she stepped inside, and she locked it.

Now, Canto padded toward her, as if recognizing something was wrong, leaning his body against her knees until they buckled and she sank down.  Her tears began anew, though whether mourning her father or fear for herself, who could say?  She hugged the dog to her, and he merely whined and licked the blood from her face.

She didn’t know where to go, or what to do.  She was afraid to die, but what if she couldn’t train the daemons.  She had no illusions as to her fate if she did not, not anymore.  She doubted Ardyn, despite his kindness to her in the past, would protect her this time, either.  She rubbed her throat, the pain a reminder of the cruelty the Chancellor could inflict if he so chose.

Slowly, she began to remove her sticky clothes, heading for a bath.  Canto followed, whining every now and then and looking toward the door.  “No,” She rasped, “No, Canto, Grandpapa isn’t coming back.” Her shoulders shook as she stepped into the bathroom.  She hit her knees, everything in her stomach coming up into the toilet as soon as she did, her barely able to hold her own hair back.  She wiped her mouth, flushed, and just climbed straight in the bath, intent to get cleaned up and sleep until morning.

Gemma knew she would die.  She just had to figure out how.


	2. Chapter 2

Ravus was not used to this sort of cloak-and-dagger affair, but it could not go wrong.  He could not fail, not tonight.  Finishing with the lock, he gently pushed the door of her room open, and merely raised a hand to where Canto lay at the door.  The dog pulled back a lip, as if he knew what the High Commander had done.

“Shh,” He whispered, closing the door behind him, “We have to be quiet.  We can’t alert the guards.”

Canto huffed, laying his head down, closing his eyes as if sleeping.  Ravus had no doubt in him if he moved the wrong way, the dog would latch onto his throat and never let go.  He had no time to linger, gently pushing open the door to the bedroom and stepping inside.  Gemma was curled up in the middle of her bed, head barely on the pillow, the sweetest furrow between her brows.  Her hair was tied back in a braid, so it wouldn’t tangle, the dim light of the moon casting dark shadows over her smooth skin, bringing out the shimmer in her white nightgown over her prone body.  She had kicked off all of her blankets, though her window was still open.

She looked like a princess from one of the old stories, the ones woken with a kiss from a hundred years enchantment, and he wished sorely he could simply kiss her and their troubles would disappear with a happily ever after.  But, he couldn’t.  Hesitantly, he reached out, brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers.  She felt like satin, delicate and easily wrinkled, torn.  She mumbled something in her sleep and turned over.

Ravus set his hand to her shoulder.  “Gemma,” He whispered to her, leaning down to her ear, “Gemma, wake up, we have to go.”

She awakened with a start, and he had to cover her mouth with his hand to muffle the cry she made, “Pack your things,” He ordered, not daring to raise his voice, “We must move quickly.  There is a ship to Altissia waiting for you, but it will not wait all night.”

She looked up at him, confused, relieved, terrified.  He slowly removed his hand.  “Why?” She asked, her voice also a whisper, “Commander, I don’t-”

He shook his head, “Ravus.  Please.  Call me Ravus.  And I do not have time to explain, we have to hurry.”

She stared at him a moment longer, but he cupped her cheek in his hand, bringing her head in close to his, settling his forehead against hers.  She smelled clean, like sweet silk and flowers, as she always had.  “Please, Gemma.  I will not watch what happened to that bastard happen to you.”

The thought of her, bloodied and limp, being devoured by daemons killed him more than his absence from her side ever had.  Being forced to stand by and watch her die...he couldn’t take it.  Thankfully, she nodded, moving out of bed to grab her meager belongings, things she would not be able to live without.  He left her long enough for her to get dressed, not sure he would be able to see her in anything less than she was now and let her go.  And he had to let her go, again.

When she came out, it was in blue-black; a close cut sweater that clung to her torso in such a way that Ravus’ mouth went dry just looking at her and a long skirt split up the sides to the knees to make it easier to move.  She leashed Canto and tossed her bag over her shoulder, setting her hand to her throat, as if to feel for the choke chain she was now without.

He reached out, taking her hand in his, the calloused palm so small and warm against his own it stirred up all the memories he had been trying to put aside.  He led her out, letting her lock her door as Canto very nearly pulled them both toward the docks.  The ship was not large, carrying only a small amount of refugees out of Tenebrae, out from under the rule of this new Emperor, to Altissia.  The safest place for them - for her - now.  They let the dog on without protest, but she held his hand, standing beside him, looking toward the moonlit sea.

“Why?” She asked again, turning tearful eyes up to him, “Ravus, please.  Why are you doing this?  You could-could be demoted, or killed, or worse.”

Always thinking of others.  He felt his heartstrings tug a moment as he put his hand into his pocket, sliding out a delicate silver chain.  Smaller, decorative than her collar, and in the center hung a silver ring.  The stone was clear crystal, tiny blossoms of sylleblossoms growing within.  “Here,” He whispered, putting it around her neck, “Keep this close to your heart.  So long as you wear it, there is hope, my love.” He saw her confused face, the way her lips parted and her eyes widened.  His hand settled against her cheek as it had when they were young.

Ravus brought her face to his, but not forehead to forehead this time.  He kissed her, and he kissed her as he had wanted to for all of those years he had watched her in the palace.  Heard her voice.  Smelled her soft silk and flowers perfume.  He kissed her gently, but his tongue parted her lips, sweeping in and tasting her, making her his again, easing that little moan out of the back of her throat as she went all but limp in his arms, holding his shoulders for support.  He pulled away, reluctant to lose her warmth.  Her kindness.  Her sweet smell, her sweet taste.

“I will find you again,” He whispered to her, kissing her forehead, “Now, go, before they come looking for me.”

He all but pushed her onto the boat, having to force her hands off of him, and he felt a coldness, a numbness as she did.  He wanted to go with her, to protect her.  But, he looked toward the ring and the chain around her neck.  He could find her again.  He would.  His eyes turned to the captain.

“Let no one stop you until you reach the docks in Altissia.  Tell them I sent you.” He ordered, “And keep her safe.”

“Ravus,” She murmured, still in shock.  It was a great deal to take in, “Ravus, I...I can’t thank you enough.”

A small smirk crossed his lips.

“Stay alive, Gemma Tenebris.  And then you can thank me properly when we meet again…”

 

\--

 

_ The young prince had been cold, empty, sullen in those months after the death of his mother and the arrival of Niflheim in the kingdom of Tenebrae.  His sister and father had grown concerned as his demeanor had changed in a matter of months.  He was withdrawn, almost...empty. _

_ A dog, it had been decided, would help.  Lunafreya had Umbra and Pryna, Messengers and companions, but Ravus had no such companion.  It was arranged that the common house of Tenebris would gift and train such a dog for the prince, teaching it how to follow Ravus’ commands and protect him, follow directions and give him comfort.  It would do the young man good, it was decided, to learn from someone his own age, thus Servaas was given the commission in Gemma’s name; if his daughter proved to be a good trainer, perhaps there would be more in the future. _

_ That must have been why her father fussed at her so.   _ Wear this.  Don’t speak too loudly.  Don’t refer to him by name, always “my lord” or “sir”.  Make sure you don’t look him in the eye.

Don’t hardly breathe, if you can help it.

_ Gemma gulped down a breath, gently knocking on the door in front of her.  Prince Ravus’ study was terrifyingly intimidating.  It was just Lord Ravus now, she reminded herself.  There was no Prince or Princess anymore.  She had to remember that.  She waited patiently, hands fidgeting at the sleeve of her dress.  She had worn her nice pink summer dress, with the long lace sleeves and the tiered ruffled hem.  She hoped it was enough to make his lordship smile; bright colors, she noticed, tended to make people smile.  Especially on her - whether she genuinely looked nice or people thought she looked ridiculous, she didn’t know. _

_ “Come in,” A quiet male voice finally ordered, and she pushed open the door.  Her head bowed, she dropped into a deep curtsy, and waited for him to tell her to stand. _

_ Ravus looked up from his book, and looked toward the girl before him.  She was short, he noticed, but maybe it was how low she had dipped to the floor, the way she seemed to be trying to make herself small, with her rounded shoulders, bowed head.  Dark hair fell across her shoulders, skin already kissed by the summer sun, the earthy locks held out of her face by a pink lace ribbon to match the sleeves of her dress.  As he motioned her rise and she did, he heard a soft clink, a set of hefty silver rings in a strange sort of necklace around her throat. _

_ “My lord,” She murmured, in a voice little louder than a whisper, “My name is Gemma Tenebris.  I was asked to help you find and train a dog for a companion.” She bit her lip, almost raising her eyes to his.  But, not quite, her long, thick dark lashes shielding them from his sight. _

_ “I don’t have time for a dog,” Ravus pointed out, his voice not sharp, but cold, empty, like a well in the middle of winter, “You should tell my father to get his money back.” Gemma’s heart sank and she bit her lip a little harder.  There was a long silence, “Gemma Tenebris?” He asked curiously, “Will you look at me?” _

_ Her answer started to fly off her tongue, but got stuck halfway there, “M-My lord, it isn’t...isn’t proper for a common lady to look a noble in the eyes-” She felt her breath start to catch, praying he changed his mind about the dog.  She could never tell her father to return the commission, this would be all her fault if she couldn’t convince him, she would be disciplined sharply. _

_ “Unless he asks,” Ravus stated, seeing her shoulder start to shake, the trembling running down her arms, where her hands furiously twisted the delicate lace of her sleeves around her finger, “Miss Tenebris.  Look at me.  I’m tired of servants cowering around me, worried to make me cry, thinking I’ll break.” _

_ She slowly raised her eyes, and for a moment, he stopped breathing, he was sure.  Her eyes were the deepest, richest brown he had ever seen.  Not quite black, but a sure brown, her shaped by her high cheekbones, and they seemed to have the world within their depths.  Knowledge of pain, of joy, of a world beyond his knowing.  And, at once, he wanted to know that world.  He wanted to know more of anything beyond the cold, cloying feeling of betrayal and despair. _

_ He looked into her eyes as long as he could, suppressing a smile as he saw the blush in her full cheeks and she looked down again, folding her hands in front of her so she didn’t tear her sleeves on accident.  She was...shy.  Not fearful, but shy.  And it was adorable.  “I am sorry you came all this way for nothing.” _

_ “Please, my lord,” She offered, trying not to look at him again.  He was beautiful, like a classic painting of some winter spirit, needing only the sweet warmth of spring’s kiss.  She had seen him, of course, but never so close.  From the silvery white of his hair, his snowy skin, the straight line of his nose, and those eyes...green, like emeralds, shining but hard.  His mouth, almost as soft as hers, which she could imagine kissing her hand in her deepest, most secret thoughts.  She came back to the situation at hand, feeling her cheeks heat again, “My father cannot lose this commission.  He-he needs the money desperately.  And…” She gave a small smile, “I think that you would do well with a dog.  Someone to be there, if you were to-to get lonely.” _

_ “Why would I get lonely in a castle full of people?” He asked, almost boredly, but he seemed to be considering it, at least.  The butterflies in her stomach stirred again, but, he heaved a sigh, “Fine.  As long as it will make you happy.” _

_ “Y-Yes, my lord,” She murmured. _

_ “Lord Ravus,” He corrected.  She chanced a look up from beneath her lashes, “If you’re going to be teaching me, I should be Lord Ravus to you.  Do you understand, Miss Tenebris?” _

_ She nodded, “Yes, my- Lord Ravus.” She admitted, and he passed her on his way to the door, his book under his arm.  She followed behind him, two steps, as always.  He stopped in the middle of the hall, waiting for her to catch up. _

_ “Don’t do that.  Follow behind me,” Ravus looked over his shoulder at her, “I want you to lead me, not the other way around.” He motioned her ahead, “I haven’t been to the kennels in a long, long time.” _

_ She hesitated, briefly brushing the ringed necklace at her throat.  He could have sworn he had seen that design before, but he could not remember where.  “Lord...Lord Ravus,” She stammered, “Will-Will you trust me for...for a little while?” Her hand trembled as she held it out to him, as if she knew she shouldn’t touch him. _

_ He looked at her outstretched hand, remembering how he had reached for Regis, for Luna, that fateful day.  He remembered the smoke and flame and the whirring of magitek around him.  For a few long, terrible moments, he was back in the invasion, splattered in his mother’s blood, and he felt his heart pounding in his ears, the air going out of his lungs faster than it was coming back in. _

_ Her hand began to drop, and he took it, grasping it tightly enough that she gave a little squeak.  Her hand was...different than noble hands.  It did make sense, she was from a common house.  Her skin was soft.  Warm.  He felt the callouses from working on her palm, in the skin between her fingers as he twined his with hers.  He seemed to stare right through her, before he felt… _

_...her hand on his arm.  She looked up at him, her head tilted, her bangs falling across her forehead and almost into her eyes.  “Are you alright?” She chanced to ask him.  He looked down into her eyes, and slowly nodding, gulping a breath down.  He swallowed the lump in his throat, pulling a little away as he wiped his eyes on the heel of his hand and she removed her hand from his arm.  But, didn’t pull her hand away. _

_ “Fine,” He lied, “I’m fine.  And...I trust you.  Lead the way.” _


End file.
